


To the Depths We Fall

by JaggedCliffs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Gore, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:30:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4861340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaggedCliffs/pseuds/JaggedCliffs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something coming. Loki tried to warn them, but it didn't quite work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Depths We Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, [musebait](http://musebait.tumblr.com/) is an enabler. This fic is the first part of a fic-for-art trade with musebait, based on [here](http://jaggedcliffs.tumblr.com/post/129179732191) (original post [here](http://textsfromthe-avengers.tumblr.com/post/129178814096)).

 

 Landing hurt.

No so much because he crashed through two floors before smashing into stone, which broke his fall. But because it was more difficult to ignore the pain racking through his body when he was laying crushed and twisted against the ground than when he had been falling, weightless.

Then the noise started, bursting against the remnants of his eardrums in flashes of white: the wailing alarm, the thudding footsteps, the frantic shouting.

“What the _hell_?”

“Where the fuck did he come from?”

And closer, “Shit, shit, shit – we need medical, stat!”

Loki cracked an eye open – the better one, not the one swelled shut, but the one only gummed-up with blood. He cringed as light hit his retina, and regretted that movement when agony shot through his body, for the sight was hardly worth it.

The world was a grey blur; grey walls, grey floor, and grey brick surrounded him. A not-grey figure crouched in front him, Æsir-shaped, with dark clothes and dark skin. Beyond the figure, more of the same Æsir-shaped creatures in the same dark clothes scurried about, yelling.

“Medical will be over in two!”

“What is he? You got an ID?”

Mortals. They were mortals.

This was Midgard.

_Oh_ , Loki thought. It echoed around his head. _Oh oh oh oh oh_.

It seemed like too much trouble to keep his eye open any longer. He let it fall shut.

Loki knew he would come here eventually.

(Just like _they_ wanted.)

After all, like called to like.

As if called, _it_ trembled along his spine, scraping up against bone, and Loki shuddered.

He had to warn them. They were only mortals, they would be completely useless no matter what, but he _had_ to warn them. Loki opened his mouth–

A wheeze came out, followed by a bubble and trickle of blood. As breath left his ragged lungs, his shattered ribs shifted against stone in a way that was _all wrong._ An errant bone pierced through flesh and white-hot agony washed through him.

Loki's sight faded into black.

 

*

 

Soft cushions pillowed his body. Mechanical sounds fluttered about him. A steady beeping pumped away like a heartbeat.

Loki floated, lingering somewhere on the edge of sleep and pain. If he moved, the sleep would vanish, leaving only the pain behind.

Once, he hadn't need to move. He had been falling.

Then he had stopped.

He didn't know if he was grateful or not when he started falling again.

( _Thrown_ this time, though. Not _let go_.)

( _Rough hands dragging him away to the edge and Loki screamed and fought with broken limbs–_ )

( _The hands were gone, everything was gone, and blackness surrounded him again._ )

It hurt less, falling again, than when he had landed that first time.

He had hoped he would never stop falling again.

( _“You_ _ **will**_ _fulfil your purpose, runt.”_ )

Loki opened his eyes to blinding-white lights in a blinding-white room.

His back crawled. His spine ached.

He couldn't stay.

Biting back a gasp, Loki flopped onto his side. Cords and blankets tangled around him, every bit of flesh protested his movement, but Loki ignored them all. Bracing his hands against the bed, while his body shrieked at him and blood welled in the back of his throat, Loki pushed himself up.

The beeping went wild, the mechanical sounds whirred in distress, and Loki sat upright, swaying and blinking at the lights. His head spun, his muscles shook violently at the strain, and his body throbbed in time with his racing heart.

Loki was fighting the urge not to vomit when mortals swarmed into the room, a mass of bright white and soft blue. They jabbered and muttered to one another, their voices anxious, confused, alarmed.

“...shouldn't be moving right now...”

“...shouldn't even be _awake_...”

“...accelerated healing – just look at his chest...”

The mortals flocked closer, and Loki squinted up at the mass of faces He unglued his thick tongue from the roof of his mouth, the iron taste of blood moistening his lips.

“ _Please_ ,” he whispered. His voice was a wet gurgle, barely decipherable even to his own ears, but he had to try. “Please, listen, you have to stop – it's coming, see–”

“Lay back down, sir,” one human said, with bright eyes and cherry-pink lips. “You're in a lot of pain right now.”

Loki wanted to laugh. Of course he was in pain, he could feel it in every inch of his body. He couldn't remember a time before the pain–

( _It was before “No, Loki.”_ )

( _No, before that, before “What am I?” and “What more than that?”_ )

There was a human with something in its hand, poking a sharp glint of metal into a bag above Loki's head, while the rest of the mortals kept talking as if Loki hadn't spoken.

“...enough to put an elephant to sleep...”

“...not human. Tell Fury that...”

“...how many samples...”

A spike of pain rippled furiously down his back, and Loki flinched, a whimper rising in the back of his throat before he could stop it.

“ _Listen_ ,” he pleaded. “You have to leave me...”

His tongue grew heavy and refused to move, and a weight pressed on his back, like Asgard had settled on his shoulders. He slumped over, sliding sideways until the mortal's hands caught him and guided him gently back down onto the bed.

“Can't...stay...” he tried. His voice rasped horribly, and a whistle of air accompanying each word. When was the last time he had truly _spoken_ , not just screamed?

“Just relax, and everything will be fine,” the mortal said, soothingly.

_No, no it won't be_ , Loki wanted to say, but his vision was already falling away.

 

*

 

A palm cradled his cheek. Fingers carded through his hair. A low voice murmured, a voice like home.

His back throbbed. His spine quivered and slithered beneath his skin.

“...can never repay you for taking care of him,” the voice-like-home said. “He has been lost to us for far too long.”

“We did what we could,” said another voice, “which admittedly wasn't a lot. His body did most of it for us.”

“Nevertheless, I thank you for your efforts...”

Loki opened his eyes to the same blinding white room, the same whirring and beeping machines, the same cords extending out from his skin. But he wasn't alone this time. A human stood to one side of the room, in a long black coat and a plain black eyepatch.

And, beside Loki's bed, there were bright blue eyes and golden hair, gleaming silver armour and a slash of red spilled down to the floor.

Something in Loki's heart twisted, his spine shivered, and he couldn't help the small noise that bubbled up from his throat. The voices went quiet.

Those blue eyes looked down, surprised and filled with a love that _burned_.

“ _Loki_.” A wide, golden smile appeared, as bright as the sun, even as tears spilled down cheeks. “Loki – _brother_ –”

_No_ , Loki thought. _No, not Thor_.

“No, you can't–” Loki tried to say. His words slurred, his silvertongue a lead weight in his mouth, and he tried to push Thor's hands away. “You have to go, you have to–”

Crawling. There was crawling down his spine. They were little pin-pricks, moving up and down and up, from the base of his skull to his tailbone.

Thor _couldn't_ be here.

_Not Thor._

But Thor leaned over, arms cradling him gently, so gently. When was the last time he'd been held like that?

“You're safe now, Loki,” Thor rumbled, his voice the breaking of thunder on the horizon, threat and comfort both. “You're here with me, away from – away from those who _hurt_ you.”

It was such a pretty lie, and Loki wanted it. If anyone could stop _them_ , it would be Thor, because Thor was always strong where Loki was weak – everyone always said that, hadn't they?  
But Loki remembered – a mad grin and madder eyes, hands that broke through the mind with a touch–  
No one was strong enough.

_Not Thor._

“ _No_ ,” Loki insisted. It was a pretty lie, but that was all it was. “You don't _understand_. You have to go – please, please, _leave_ ,” he begged.

“Shhh, it's all right, Loki.” Blue eyes sparkled, and the sight of them wrenched a pain through Loki, worse than when he had landed. Tears trickle down past his ears, and Loki choked on a sob. “You're safe,” Thor soothed, “I promise. I'm taking you _home_ , Loki. I'm taking you back to Asgard.”

_Asgard_.

_No, no, no_ –

Fear flooded Loki's heart, in time with the pangs running along his back. The little pin-pricks transformed into little spikes, driving through bone and marrow.

Not Asgard. _Not Thor, not Asgard_. He _couldn't_ –

Loki shoved Thor away with his heavy, dead-weight arms and rolled off the side of the bed.

Thor yelled his name. The man on the other side of the room yelled into his hands. Loki scrambled towards the doors, staggering more than he was running. His body was numb, although he could feel the bruises and scars and lumps of swollen flesh. His legs were numb, but he still managed to stumble out the door.

Shouts followed him. Thor called his name again, his footsteps stomping after him, and Loki knew he could never run fast enough. Not as he was.

But he didn't have to _run_.

Loki reached inside to whatever magic he had left, those few sparks that _they_ had kept alive for their use and amusement. Glancing back for one last look, Loki tore through space – somewhere, _anywhere_ , so long as it was far from here. As the world faded, he saw Thor, hand outstretched, his blue eyes desperate, afraid, and loving.

That was why Loki had to leave him.

Thor disappeared, along with the white halls and white lights, and Loki emerged somewhere much colder, much darker. No sooner had he landed than he collapsed to the floor, palms flat against grimy stone and legs splayed. Gloom hung heavy about him, except for a blue light piercing the air.

Once again, shouting broke out, angry and demanding this time.

“Who are are you? How did you get here?”

“This is a restricted area–”

“Identify yourself!”

Loki raised his head–

And wished he hadn't.

His limbs began shaking like twigs, and his breath came out in strained gasps, each puff accompanied by a whine in the back of his throat.

Loki hadn't meant to come here – he had only been trying to _escape_. But he should have known _anywhere_ would bring him here.

After all, like called to like.

Stone called to Stone.

It was only a matter of time.

(Just like _they_ wanted.)

The mortals squawked and clambered about, boots tramping closer, and still Loki stared, transfixed, as the Tesseract shone merrily above him, its bright blue piercing the dark.

Then Loki's spine _rippled_ , from neck and down, and his limbs gave out. His chin snapped hard against the floor, the iron of blood flooding his tongue.

“Put your hands above your head and state your purpose,” a mortal growled as the spikes running down Loki's spine grew into knives, plunging in and out and setting his nerves alight.

It was coming, he knew. He couldn't hold it off. All this running and hoping, and nothing had changed.

_Not Asgard_ , he pleaded. _Please, not Asgard_.

There was a cruel, condescending laugh. _You think you command us, child?_ it sneered.

_Please, not Asgard_ , Loki repeated like a prayer. _Not Asgard, not Thor, not Asgard, not Thor–_

A human poked a long metal stick towards him. “I said–”

“You can't let him through,” Loki panted. His nails scrabbled at the human's boots, as if that would get one of them to listen. “Please, you _can't_ let him through, you–” Another surge of pain tore down his back, and a scream built in Loki's chest. He bit on his tongue to stop it.

He wouldn't scream, he wouldn't scream, not again–

“Who? Who's coming?” the mortal above him demanded. “Where?”

“ _He_ is,” Loki gasped out. “He's coming _through m_ –”

Agony split through him, his spine surge upward like a cracking whip, and Loki broke his promise to himself. He screamed.

(Too late, too late – he wasn't strong enough, wasn't fast enough–)

_Not Asgard, not Thor, not Asgard, not Thor,_ _ **please**_ –

The bones heaved, once, and began to expand, slicing into muscle and forcing organs out of the way. Loki lay, immobile but to scream, and yet he could feel everything – how _it_ pushed up and up against his skin, the hollow emptiness threatened to swallow him starting with his insides, the _wrongness_ that invaded his body. Just like when they put it in him.

Shrieks echoed about him, pitches rising and falling, and Loki wasn't sure it was just him anymore. As wails raced around the chamber and inside Loki's head, the skin on his back ripped open.

The sceptre erupted first.

It had been his spine, in a way, so it made sense that it came first. They had never described how they fused the two together in different planes of reality, but Loki was sure he understood the theory well enough. The Stone kept it all pinned in place, nestled at the base of his skull. Its power allowed it exist in the same place as his spine. Its power allowed the Other to _know_.

After the sceptre came loose, a hand with two thumbs reached out to splay across Loki's back, and pulled the rest free.

Loki vomited, though from the taste, it was only more of the blood that pooled around him.

There were shouts and loud bangs, there were explosions of blue light, and there was cold laughter.

And silence.

Loki didn't wait for the rest.

He let his mind drift away, pain driving him away into the darkness swarming at the edges of his vision. If he was lucky, his body wouldn't survive the Tesseract's journey.

If he was lucky, he wouldn't wake up.

But when had the universe ever been so kind as to give Loki what he wanted?


End file.
